Twisted (chucky AU)
by fandomfollower
Summary: Just a story I wrote for a creative writing course in high school, i decided to change the character names and post it as an AU :) The two main character names are borrowed because i thought it was suiting, everything else is my creation. Rights to whom ever. Enjoy :) R&R chucky/charles & tiffany


**Twisted**

Charles Lee Ray was your average hard working, fast talking news reporter. He would go out to crime scenes and photograph the wreck, then go interview the police or the criminal. Charles was six foot one with dark hair and icy-blue eyes. His favorite accessory had been a twenties style trench coat that you see investigators wear in all the movies. He thought that it was funny to be stereotypical. One day Charles was told to go interview the female 'Jack the Ripper'; Tiffany Relm. She plead guilty to thirty-six counts of murder over the last three years.

"Relm's in the Firel Penitentiary. Go get her story and the other inmates' opinions on her. Ask her every question you can think of and get an answer. I want this to be front-page news. A picture of her would be great as well. I also need your cover of her trial by tomorrow morning." Charles's boss, Alfred Mendalla, told him as he walked out the door.

Charles drove to the courthouse and flashed his pass. He took pictures, audio, video, and notes while she was placed on the stand, pleaded guilty, and taken away. He followed the prison bus to the penitentiary and walked in. He waited through all of the security protocols and was placed in a holding cell to wait for her. None of it felt weird anymore, he'd been doing it for so long. Tiffany was soon escorted into the room by a guard and sat down, and then the guard left. This part was strange- the guards never have left a convict with a potential target, ever.

"They say that I'm stable." The pale, green-eyed woman said, as if reading his mind, "They think that what I did was all for a reason and no one was killed out of pure rage. They say its okay for people to be around me."

"Well then, let's get on with it. I'm Charles Lee Ray from the local paper and I wanted to interview you about the killings. Once a month seems like a hobby." He pulled a pen, a notebook, and a recorder out from his coat.

"I see you don't want to miss anything I say. Fine by me, I've got nothing to hide." She shrugged but kept her eyes on his, looking for something.

"I can tell. Pleading guilty, with absolutely no bargaining. Did you want to be put away?"

"Only if they could catch me." She turned her emerald eyes to the notepad.

"Why kill all those people? What made you want to become the new era 'Ripper'?"

"I wanted to be the best. Jack the Ripper took only the female sex organs. I took everything that someone that age had left. A teenaged boy, for instance, has his brain and his…manhood. If I were to kill him, I'd try and take both. I want to be the very best serial killer in history. The police couldn't catch me for three years, and I escaped so many charges before as well."

"Then why admit to all of them now?" Charles was writing away in his little book. "What made you want them to catch you if they could?"

"Life's a bitch. Death is a mystery. I was trying to figure out how to make it better, simpler. People are all afraid to die and afraid to live. When they read or hear about someone dying or getting kidnapped, they hide. Try to save themselves and their loved ones. If they read or hear about the mutilation, they pass judgment that the person who did it was insane. Yet when someone hosts a dissection or autopsy or allows students to watch surgery, no one is crazy. You're still cutting up people for your own knowledge. The only difference I see is how legal it is. Cause of death is clearer when the murderer wants it to be. I wanted no mistakes made about me as a 'Ripper'. People should know."

"How could you, how can you not show or feel anything? You're cold to the whole thing as if you've detached yourself from it." Charles had stopped writing at this point and was just captivated by her. The cold-hearted beauty that could kill him, was just sitting there telling him what he wanted to know.

"I'm cold to the whole thing _because_ I'm a part of it. If I didn't know exactly what was going on, I'd be just as panicked as everyone else. I already know what's going to happen." She smiled at him and shrugged. "Besides that, I know that I'm going to win."

"Win? Win what? You've already lost your case and you're in jail."

The buzz for the end of the visiting session went off and a guard came in to take her away. She stood up and left without answering his last question, a quick smirk flitted across her face. She knew she had left him hanging and he wanted more. Charles was left standing there with his equipment still rolling. He watched her walk down the hall and out of sight with barely a grin on her face.

"You can continue the interview tomorrow. You need to leave now." A voice came from behind. There was a guard holding the door for him. He grabbed his things and left, mind racing from Tiffany's last words.

**_~Chapter 1~_**

When Charles handed in his report and a copy of the tape from the interview, his boss told him to go back. Alfred had changed his mind and wanted to do a series of articles on Tiffany instead of the one he was about to run.

"This could make your career! Charles, the man who interviewed 'Tiffany the Ripper'. I can see it now. You're resume would be greatly improved, if you ever decided to leave that is, and you would be renowned for this! And it's only a series of articles! This will create a bigger name for the paper, too." He was walking in circles around Charles's chair, a gleam in his eye. "This would make the paper more money. That means we'd get paid more too, for being the ones to do this. We can ask to be the only reporters allowed to interview her. Maybe strike a deal with the jailers… This is perfect!"

"Sir, I don't want to go back. She had a plan and I'm not sure that I want to be a part of it." Charles slipped in. "She said she was going to win. I don't want to be on her side while she tries."

"Put down that tape boy. Aren't you the least bit curious as to what she was going to try to win? Where's that nosey reporter instinct?"

"Sure, I'm curious. That's why I don't want to go back. I don't want to get caught up in it. I don't want to know what she's planning or doing. Can't you get someone else? I don't want to see or hear her again. I feel like I'm going to be used." He was still staring at the tape in his hands, turning it over every few seconds. "She has a master-mind air about her."

"Well, I guess if you feel that way, here." He handed over a picture of Charles with the words 'See you again soon' written across his eyes in pink highlighter. "The guards took it from her during some bed check or something. I don't think she'll talk to anyone but you. But if you really don't want to go back I can try."

"I don't. Thank you." Charles stood up and walked out holding the tape in one hand and looking at the picture in the other. He wondered what she was up to and why he would be the one involved. If he hadn't gone first, who would've? Would it have been someone else's picture? How much did it really matter? Why would his boss try to keep him in it? Was it all part of Tiffany's plan to- to do what?

"Charles! Wait!" His boss called him from the office. "Tiffany's on the line for you." He held out the phone to Charles while maintaining a stunned look. Charles walked back and took the phone.

"Were you going to try and leave me?" She clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Oh, did I frighten you? I'm sorry. I wanted it to be you who figured me out. Who stopped me or helped me or got involved in the wrong things. I'm running out of phone time so I'll just spit it out. If you want to leave me, at least come say good-bye, and introduce me to the new reporter. M'kay? Night." _Click_.

Charles stood there with the phone to his ear for a few more moments before hanging it up. He hadn't said a word the whole time and his face portrayed no emotions. Through his eyes, focused but seeing nothing, proved that his mind was whirling. Alfred was waiting but became too anxious.

"What's wrong? What did she say?" He was nearly begging.

"She wants me to go say 'bye' and introduce her to the next reporter… How did she know that I was going to change assignments?" He directed the question at his boss. "Did you tell her something?"

"No. When I answered she just said who she was and that she wanted to talk to you. When I told her you left she said it was important and to call you back now. So I did. Sorry, but we'd best oblige someone who we need info from."

Charles nodded and looked to the ground. He waved and silently left the office. He picked up his things from where he had left them and went to the elevator. The whole time he was thinking about Tiffany and what she was doing. Once he got home, all he could think about was the next day and what would happen with the new reporter.

That night, he dreamt of himself and Tiffany sitting and talking in the jail's padded cell. Yet instead of Tiffany being the one in a straight jacket and tied to the chair, it was he. She was free and smiling at him across the table. The gist of the conversation, or the part that he remembers, was about what he had done to her.

"Why did you decide to kill me?" Tiffany asked him.

"Because you were a threat." He replied laughing like it was common knowledge. "I wanted to beat you at your own game."

"Well, you lost even as you won. Night darling." Tiffany got up, walked over to the tied up Charles, and kissed him on the top of his head before walking into the bright light on the other side of the door.

He awoke with a start. Charles's heart was pounding steady but hard. _What was that? A premonition or something? What-why-how did I kill her? She was there, talking to me, about her being dead…_

Charles dragged himself out of bed, the questions still rolling around in his head. He went to take a hot shower and remembered that he had to go meet the new reporter and take them to Tiffany. For some reason, it felt like he was sending them to their death.

"Hey! Charles! You up or what?!" the answering machine was yelling at him. "If you don't come to the office right now I'm going to leave you on the Tiffany case." It was his boss. "I'll give you twenty minutes. Be here or else!"_ Beep._

Charles quickly rinsed off and got ready. He made it to the office with nearly ten seconds to spare. He went straight to his boss' office and knocked. No one opened the door or shouted for him to enter, so he went in anyway. The sight before him was sickening. Alfred was in his boxers and tie, which had him tied to his chair by the neck and turning a nasty shade of red. The new reporter was laid out on the floor covered in blood. Charles ran around her to try and undo the tie that was killing his boss.

"Call an ambulance! Someone! 911! Help!" Charles grabbed the scissors from a drawer in the desk and cut the tie.

"I called and they said a unit's on the way. Holy-" the one who came to tell Charles that it was taken care of saw the reporter on the floor. She ran to the bathroom and everyone outside the doors was trying to see what had happened. Most turned away at once, others seemed frozen, and the rest came to help and try to get their boss breathing again.

The ambulance came and took care of Alfred. They said he had an extremely thin chance of making it, but if he ever woke up, he would survive. The coroners came for the woman. She was dyed red by the blood but recognized as Margret Hans, the replacement reporter.

"Now. What happened with you? Exactly, please." The officer who was questioning everyone had finally gotten to Charles.

"I came in to meet the girl and I saw her…like, she was… and my half naked boss getting strangled in his chair by his tie." Charles tried and failed to shake the images that were flashing in his mind as he spoke. "I ran to help him and I cut the tie."

"And you yelled for the others to call for help?"

"Yes sir."

"And then the ambulance and everyone came?"

"Yes sir."

"So you didn't see that?" The officer pointed and the ceiling. There, Charles saw the big, bloody letters and picture.

"No… I didn't think to look up…I didn't try…I only wanted to get help…" He was still staring at the blood spatter message above.

"Okay then. Thanks for your time. We'll be in touch." The officer handed Charles a piece of paper, folded his pad and walked away.

He finally looked down at the paper, after he had been removed from the crime scene, to see yet another message from Tiffany:

Hey darling,

So, do you like my game yet? I hope you don't mind the use of guards and police but I can't really talk to you myself now can I? The one who gives this to you is supposed to point out my other message as well. If you haven't already seen it, it's the bloody thing on the ceiling in your mean boss' office.

Don't be mad at me but I had to keep you. This was the only way I knew I would get you for sure.

Oh, how'd you like my outfit last night? Did I look good or what?

See you soon babe.

Tiffany

Charles froze. He re-read the note several times. She did it from inside her cell. Either that or she was able to get someone to do it for her, like how she gave him the note. There was no doubt in his mind that it was her handwriting. He had been researching her, studying her. Now he was on the other side of the looking glass. The talking flowers and deceptive path were right in front of him and the place he wanted to get to had suddenly become so far away. He was running from the Red Queen who, instead of helping him get there, was taunting him on his way. His Red Queen was the sadistic one from the Adventures in Wonderland story, not the snappish chess piece that was in Through the Looking Glass.

_Last night?_ All Charles could remember about her and last night, the seeing her part was in his dream. The only other time he spent with her last night was over the phone. He couldn't see her or what she was wearing. But it couldn't be that she knew what he was dreaming…_Could she? What was she wearing in my dream? The yellow business outfit. She had a white waist jacket over her yellow suit-skirt ensemble. Her hair was down and flowing over her shoulders. She looked better then good, she looked free._

"Hey! 'Fro-zone'. You need to get out of the way for the CSI guys." One of Charles's friends called to him, snapping him out of his shock. "C'mon. Move it man."

"Oh, sorry. Coming." Charles apologized to the investigators before hurrying over to his friend. "Hey. I think I just killed Margret…Well, not I myself but like, by letting her take this story… Tiffany got mad…She wants me only…Check it out." He handed over the note.

"Charles Lee Ray?" a CSI tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a photo of the ceiling art by Tiffany. "You should keep this. There was a note above the door saying that you get a copy of her art or she finds us. Sorry, but I don't want to be a message." She turned and walked away, visibly shaken but steady at the same time.

**_~Chapter 2~_**

"Sheeze. Is this really in there?" Josh, Charles's friend, asked. "Tiffany did it?"

"Yeah. I guess. I think she used Margret's blood to do it." The thought of Tiffany cutting up someone to paint the roof made him queasy. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Want to go home? Do you need a ride or something? Can you even make it the bathroom or do you need a can?"

"Can, please." Josh grabbed the trashcan and handed it to Charles, whose stomach gave up everything with a vengeance.

Charles entered the padded cell and shuddered. It was extremely close to the cell from his dream, yet this one had a window. _Be calm. It isn't now. It's never going to happen._

"Hi Charles. Miss me already did you? I saw on the news what happened to your friends. So sorry. Do they think it was me? Is that why I got moved in here?" Tiffany was sitting stiffly upright in the chair behind the table. She didn't have a straight jacket but she did have handcuffs and a restraining belt. "Don't you want to sit?"

"I think you did it. Even from in here you did it to prove that you could. This whole 'prisoner' thing is just an act so people think they're safe. Then you go and pass out notes. Taunting notes to me. Why? What are you doing?" Charles hadn't moved from his place by the door. He feared her too much to get too far from his only escape route.

"How was I to do it? What's your story, reporter?" Charles just stared at her. She was still pretty, even prison couldn't change her looks from the sweetly demented glow she had. He thought of Poison Ivy, from Batman. How she was cute and deadly and always got out of jail to kill again. "Tell me your thoughts, Statue, and I'll tell you mine."

"Fine. I think you're using me to do something that only I can do. You're playing a game with me and there's little I can do to stop you. The messages were set-ups to get me to come down here again. To make me see you in your new home." Charles forced himself over to the table and sat down.

"Please, don't flatter yourself. People are like mud. Dirty, obvious, and malleable. God never let Adam dry, which is why he could make Eve. I thought I've already proved that I can play with anyone, the notes, hello? But I choose you to be my opponent."

The guards came in and told Charles that Tiffany had a call and he could either wait or leave. He got up and said good-bye; Tiffany dramatically frowned and was on her way. He went straight to the security office and asked if Tiffany was ever not on camera the whole morning. The officers all said no and also told him that they were the only ones who had seen her before him. Charles thanked them and left property.

_She said people were malleable…the guards must be in on it too…_

Charles walked back to his car and got in, then called Josh. _C'mon, c'mon. Answer you stupid phone! I need to tell you something! Pick up, pick up, pick up…_ "Hi. You've reached Josh Durgon. Sorry, but I'm not here right now. Leave a message and I'll get back to you ASAP. Thanks." _Beeeeeep._ "Josh! It's Charles. I need you to come over immediately! I just figured out Tiffany."

He hung up the phone and started his car. He looked at the jail and saw Tiffany in one of the windows. She smiled and waved at him as he drove away. Once he was out of her sights, she sat down on her new bed and pulled out a computer. She began to write.

"You're starting already?" the person who was in the cell with her peered over her shoulder.

"Sure. Why not? I like to remember in great detail what I do to people. That's why I take pictures of my work. This way, typing my thoughts, I will always know and be able to remember what exactly happened and how I felt. I doubt that you can say the same. You probably can't even remember last night clearly." Tiffany smirked at her visitor. "Now, either when I die or get out of here, people will know the real me. Well, the one that was in a cell anyway. The biography and autobiography can come when I'm physically free. For now, the attention suits me fine. It's when I start to fade away that I'll come up with more insight to a killer."

"Yes, 'Queen Mab'." They laughed together.

"If you keep making fun of me I'll write you a smaller part. Now go be a good 'Frik' and chase down my man. I'm not done yet." Tiffany gestured to her laptop and resumed typing. Her goal with her story was more then just telling what she'd done. She wanted the world to be shaking in fear of her return and of her escape. She wanted attention for the rest of the known worlds' days. Once she died, she wanted people to come to her headstone and see her name. She wanted people from every corner of the world to know who she was and fear her. Tiffany was going to be the most powerful person in the world even from the grave. The real 'Ripper'.

She always thought that Jack the Ripper's biggest flaw was that no one knew who he was or how many people he killed. The unknown is the only thing that's kept his story around for so long. He never came out and said who he was but he was changing history for some possibly innocent people. She was going to last forever because she had a face and a name. Telling others about her actions and what she was thinking and feeling was more then just passion. She was going to be rich, famous, powerful, known, and the leader of a movement.

As she typed in her cell, she smiled. The most deadly prisoners feared her, feared her power, and they would do anything to try and be on her team. They were there because they had been careless. Now they had someone to lead them. The one who let herself get caught so she could use the world. In only a few days, Tiffany had taken control of the penitentiary. The guards did as she asked and the prisoners conspired, yet she had absolutely nothing to worry about. Her life couldn't have been more perfect.

"Hey Charles. I'm here. What did you mean, on my phone?" Josh was walking up the sidewalk to Charles's front door.

"I'll tell you inside." Charles was standing at the door, impatiently, waiting for Josh to hurry and get inside. "Can you move any slower? Geez, it'll take you the rest of the year at that pace." Josh started to go in the slowest slow motion he could. "Knock it off. I really need to talk and I don't want people to help her."

"What? Fine. I'm hurrying. See me in the house?" As soon as Josh got through the door it was shut and locked, the curtains closed and the lights turned off. "What the hell?" The whole living room lit up with some kind of glow paint.

There were three bright colors of glowing paint on the walls and furniture. At first glance, the letters seemed to mean nothing, but when you put the blue letters together, they spelled "Watch". The green letters spelled "Your", and the red was "Back".

"Shit, man. This was here when you came home?" Josh was frozen near the door with an open mouth. "You think Tiffany was here?"

"No but someone was. I was with Tiffany before I came home. So someone was in here, either while I slept or while I was at the office." Charles turned the lights back on. "I don't think anyone could've done it while I slept because I have the home security system and I'm pretty sure not even you, my closest friend, could guess the code. They had to have done it while I was with Tiffany. I rushed over to the office and I can't remember if I turned it on or not but it was off when I came home." Charles went into the kitchen and grabbed two drinks. He tossed one of them to Josh.

"I think I'll sit on the floor…I don't want paint on my clothes…"

"It's dry. I checked already."

"Oh, okay then. Do you think that the same person who was in the office came to your place and did…it? Did they get a chance to get away before you went to the jail? Maybe it was her and she's just too fast for you." Josh went to sit on the couch by the door, next to Charles. He opened his drink and almost spilled on himself trying to see the glowing words again.

"I don't think so. Don't even say I should go to the cops because one of them gave me the note from her this morning, and that CSI who gave me the picture. I really don't think I can trust anyone that she could've contacted or have control over. She's ruling my world and I can't even see her doing it. I feel like one of those mice in a maze. I see the arrows and can smell the cheese but I can't get enough control over myself to think straight. I really need help."

"Wait. In the message, you said you figured her out or something. Was this it? You figured out her messages?" Josh waved his hand around the room.

"No, I thought I knew what was going on but then I came back to this and now have to re-think my idea. I thought that she had control over the guards and stuff in prison and was able to get out to do her stuff…But then I came home…I was with her the whole time, Josh. Someone else is helping her and I can't tell the cops." Charles took a deep breath and gulped from his drink.

"So what? You need to tell people what's going on with her. Maybe there's someone out there who isn't on her payroll." Josh shrugged and took another sip. "Oh. Is that why you're telling me?"

"Not anymore." Charles held a gun to his friend's head.

**_~Chapter 3~_**

Tiffany was sitting in her cell, drawing up the newest plans for her escape. The guards let her go to the bathroom and she kills the ones that follow her. They'll probably be the ones that she isn't taking care of already. _Even if they are, I can't risk them telling._ She smiled. The last person she killed was a rush job and threats and blackmail weren't strong enough for her. She thought of something her best friend told her once, that killing was exactly like a drug and you either got addicted or torn up about it. _How right you were beautiful. It's a drug and an addiction that there's no rehab for. The thrills are just too good._ She needed a good kill that wasn't so bloody. _I hope he knows that I really did do it. The whole thing was a set up from before he even met me. I had planned to write more but the blood was hard to spray onto the roof like that. Where's my picture? I'll put it into my project._ She got up and went to look around the mattresses on her walls. One of them by the door had a slice in it where she hid her trophies from the guards that weren't helping her.

She found what she was looking for and plugged the memory card into her computer. The picture uploaded and she placed it in just the right place in her document. The effect was instant. She wanted to place more pictures of her work in the file to give it more of a truthful ring but then the whole thing would be boastful. She needed pictures of the room. _Well, I think they'll get the idea when they read it._ She did her best to draw up what the room looked like. _It's crap, but its helpful crap. _She added it to her paper.

Someone knocked on her door before entering. It was one of the guards, one that wasn't on her side. The guard saw everything; the computer and papers, the slice in the wall, everything that wasn't supposed to be there.

Tiffany moved quickly. She grabbed the knife she'd gotten from her hiding spot and charged the guard. The guard made for her gun but had her hand gashed. Tiffany grabbed the guard and pulled her into the room then closed the door. She reached into the wall and grabbed a handful of padding. The guard grabbed her gun with her good hand and shot at Tiffany, merely skinning her. Tiffany cut the guard's other hand and the gun fell to the ground. She shoved the padding into the face of the guard and held it there until the she stopped moving. Tiffany, with the hand that held the knife, removed the padding while keeping the knife on the skin. With her free hand, she picked up the gun. She took three steps back and shot the woman in the heart.

Tiffany moved back to the body and made a deep incision beneath the jaw line. Blood flowed smoothly out of the gashes in the body and crept from the floor to the walls. It stained the clean white cell a royal shade of crimson. Tiffany watched the body start to lose its color and the cell take it all.

"Miss Tiffany?! Are you alright in there?" One of the guards who actually **wanted** to work for her was pounding on the door, her face in the small window on the door.

"I'm fine Syl. You can come in, if you like." Tiffany called without looking back. "I don't want her moved until she's empty. My room is to have the homey touch now. Got it? No matter what. If the police come or anyone else, the body is to stay here, 'kay? You must hide my things though. And could you please clean this?" She handed Syl the bloody knife and gun.

"You're hurt. Do you want to go to the medical center?" Syl asked, motioning to the tear in Tiffany's uniform and blood spot on her side.

"I can walk there on my own, thank you. Just do as I have asked and meet me there when you're done." She turned and walked out of her cell ahead of the other woman, both leaving the door open, to the bloody scene for the other prisoners. Syl understood that Tiffany ran everything by fear and strength. To see her walk away from that, bleeding but alive, would prove to the conspirators that she wasn't someone to be messed with or over powered.

Syl walked down the hall, behind Tiffany, until the broom closet where she was headed. She went in and did as she was told. She cleaned the fingerprints from the gun and scrubbed the knife until it shone. She put the gun in a cracked tile in the ceiling and took the knife back to the cell. She cleaned up all of the prohibited items and put them where she knew Tiffany would be able to get them, but the ones who didn't know where they were couldn't. Syl fixed up the wall so that it was normal in appearance and worked around the body and tried not to step in any blood. Then she started off to meet Tiffany.

"Sylvya. Sylvya. Why do you work for that woman?" She turned to face Margret Hans in the hall. "She killed me you know. With that knife you just cleaned. It had already been covered in my blood when she started work on that guard."

"Yeah. Too bad you bleed like a cow. Otherwise, dear sister, you may have been out of the morgue much, much sooner. How was it? Like your future? How about those slabs?" Sylvya spoke with an arrogant smile as her sister came closer.

"Funny. Where is she now?" Margret fell into step with Sylvya and they went towards the medical wing. "Is she alright?"

"She got shot at and a little scrape but I think she'll be fine. You saw the number she did on the other chick. Yours seems pale in comparison. How's the big guy doing?"

"Still in a coma, smart ass. I'll get back to him if he ever wakes up. If he doesn't, then his family will finish him for me. No one wants a Veggie for a father." Margret pulled out a compact from her clutch and checked her eyes. "I spy with my little eye, a gun to a head."

"How far back?"

"Around the corner. Don't worry, it's the reporter. What's his name? Tim? Charles? He's got a gun to the head of the guy I had to flirt with to get the job. Josh. He looks terrified. Hmhmhm." She fought with a giggle. "You know, he really is kind of cute. I think, if he lives, I might really go with him."

"Yeah, sis. He'd totally want to go out with a zombie." Sylvya rolled her eyes and sped up. "You can't explain to him anything. You blew it all when you used him. I think you really should've gone after Charles. Then everything would've been more helpful."

"I don't plan that far ahead okay. I didn't know she was going to make him her main. I thought I was going to have fun with my role and get somewhere. I really thought that she would tell me who I should wiggle my job from but when she didn't I went for the easiest, nicest one. She just didn't like my choice." Margret glanced back at Josh and Charles. She saw Josh get yanked back behind the wall.

"Still there?" Sylvya snuck a peek and saw Charles's eye and forehead rush back.

The two of them walked their fastest the rest of the way and got to the infirmary in less then a minute. They found Tiffany and told her that they were being followed by Charles and they thought that Josh was a hostage. She just smiled, put her finger to her lips and exited through the other door. They decided to make like they were visiting someone else and went over to the next bed. They sat with the sleeping person and noticed that it was the nurse who had been tending to the convicts that Tiffany had decided to kill. They moved the blanket more down and saw Tiffany's handy-work all over her body. Cuts and removed important parts. She had a hole in her stomach and chest. The poor nurse was missing her heart and her 'baby-oven'. She seemed to be only in her late twenties or early thirties. She was there because she needed a job and she died there because of Tiffany.

They didn't see any blood on the bed that hadn't been transferred from the already cut up body. Curiosity took over and they started to look for her organs. They weren't by her bed so they went over to where Tiffany had been, and found the tools she used. They cleaned them and put them back to where they were supposed to be. Once everything was in order, they searched the storage area and all the containers they could reach. They finally found the organs in the glass jar filled with embalming fluid. The organs looked pinkish and were spinning around each other as if they'd just been placed.

"Yeah, remind me why we want to be a part of this…" Sylvya said to Margret while taking the jar off the shelf and shaking it up.

"I want to because I've been her friend since before she was found out. I also feel guilty for causing her brother's death. This is how I make it up to her. You're willing because you're too good of a big sis to let me do it on my own. You love me to much to fight with me or leave me in a mess like this."

"Right. Well, you did more then cause her brother's death, you helped plan it. She knows that you had a hand in it as well?" Sylvya placed the jar back and turned to face her sister fully.

"Yeah. She found out at the funeral when I went off for a smoke and came back with a hat. She figured I robbed the dead or someone else at the funeral until she saw me place it on her brother's coffin. That had been his calling card whenever he did a job. I guess she caught on fast because not even a second later I got dragged off to an inquisition."

"You could've been Mrs. Margret 'Reaper' if you hadn't gone the right way. You found out and killed the man who killed our neighbors. After that you work for his sister in her 'Ripper' business." Sylvya placed her hands over her heart. "Such remorse."

"You wouldn't know. You just clean up her messes and pose as her CSI when she needs you to run errands." Margret waved her sister off and said, "Do you think the guys are still out there?"

**_~Chapter 4~_**

Charles kept the gun to Josh's back as they followed the two women around the penitentiary. They first saw the supposed to be dead reporter walk out of the morgue at the hospital, while heading to check out the body, and followed her into Alfred's room. She had a new hair color and been cleaned of all the blood, but Josh recognized her still. They spied on her as she walked around the room checking the screens and machines. She bent over and whispered something in his ear before walking out like nothing that happened to Alfred was her fault.

They followed her as she got into a car and drove off. He guessed that that was how she was going back to report to her boss. He tried to beat her there but got caught in traffic and arrived as she started down one of the long hallways. Through the windows, he saw which way she went and forced Josh into leading the way.

The more they followed her, the deeper into the asylum they went. They followed her past the bloody room, where Charles had interviewed Tiffany the second time. The sight made both men stop in their tracks. Charles even lowered the gun. They stared at the dead woman lain out to paint the room, her blood giving off the sharp rusty smell. The supposed to be dead Margret just peeked in and then called to a guard who was walking away. They started to talk and walk together, away from the room.

"Did you see that? She has no heart." Charles whispered to Josh.

"Maybe Tiffany took it out…Or trained her to be cold to it all. I could see either being a possibility." Josh replied, before having the gun put back against his head. "Okay, the Tiffany taking it out part was a joke. Please don't shoot me."

"Follow but don't be seen. I can't believe I can't trust you." Charles's heart was sore from the betrayal and the fact that he had to be so cruel to a friend, but he wanted to beat Tiffany at her own game. He wanted to win, even if it meant he would be the man in his dream. Tiffany was going to die in the prison by his hand, and he was planning it as they stalked Margret.

"Margret's got a sister…The woman she's walking with now, a guard, I think." Josh relayed to Charles. "They're tossing insults back and forth so they must be close. Shit-" He slid back against the wall. "I think Margret saw me in her mirror. We should go back to the car now."

"Why? So you can let your boss escape? They're moving again. Keep up." Charles pushed Josh with the gun and made him follow the ladies.

Charles followed them all the way to the infirmary entrance and stopped before entering. He thought he may have made a mistake in his stalking. What would 'Tiffany the Ripper' be doing in a hospital bed? Then he remembered the bloody room. _Maybe she got hurt while she tried to take down that guard. Maybe she's already dead. That would suck for my plans but make my life so much easier. She's ended her own game._

Charles risked a peek in the door window and saw the two women move towards a bed. He felt saddened by the thought that Tiffany could be dead or dying. _It's only because you want to be the one to end her. You want to take down Tiffany the Ripper. You want to be with your love._ He froze. _What the hell was that? Where did that come from?_ The sound of a door shutting brought him back to the real world and out of his thoughts. Josh was gone. He'd run as soon as Charles gave him the chance and never looked back until he was clear of the whole building. He got in the car and drove straight towards the police station.

Charles stayed in the hall by the door wondering where the thought of love had come from when he heard Margret and her sister heading the opposite way. He watched which way they went and when he could no longer see them, entered the room. The first thing he did was run to the bed he saw them at. The sheets were bloody and he feared that he had both missed his chance and lost his love.

Ignoring the mixed emotions and confusion, he lifted the blanket away from the body, ready to shoot if it moved. He saw the open corpse of a young girl and most of her organs. _She went back to taking things… She's not just killing anymore, but back at robbing body parts… Good girl._

Charles was starting to get dizzy. He could feel a black out coming on but he fought it. A sudden headache caused him to sit on the bed that was beside the corpse and close his eyes in pain. Cool hands came and took hold of his face, drawing it up and making him lay back. The hands were gentle as they took his and moved them to his hips. New thoughts came and he felt like he was alert in a dream.

Memories of being with Tiffany in the holding cell, being beside her as she talked about her career choice, holding her close in the padded room, watching her type on the laptop he brought her, and painting a message in his living room.

The confusion was back again. A stronger headache and thoughts that made sense. _I didn't paint my room, she did. I don't love her, I want her dead. Who's touching me?_ He tried to open his eyes but the cool hand closed them again. His arms were heavy and the headache was blinding but he wanted to know. All his energy went into moving the hand away to see. Tiffany let him win and see her face.

The simple knowledge that it was her nearly knocked him out of the bed. He rolled over and landed hard on the floor. She quickly helped him up but he fled again. The harder he tried to get away the less ground he covered. The thoughts of happiness and pride of being with her, the memories of sitting next to her as she typed their story continued to crash over him. Pulsing headaches came with the part of him that he thought he was and peace came with the part of him that he never knew about.

Tiffany was in her jumpsuit and standing before him, extending a hand to help him up. He took it and was lifted out of his pain.

"Feeling better yet?" her voice was concerned and loving. She looked in his eyes and touched his forehead with the back of her hand.

"Much better. I remember everything. I understand that I was chasing myself…The two halves of me are one now. I can think clearly." Charles hugged her close and she smiled.

"Hey, love? The story that you were writing, about us, where is it?" He whispered in her ear, still holding her tight.

"On the computer. Why?" She tried to pull away but found she couldn't. Charles tightened his grip around her with one arm and grabbed a scalpel with his other. He changed his grip to her hair, pulled her head back, and sliced her throat.

Laying her gently on the ground I, Charles, whispered my reply, "I want to add some of my side to it. Just to make sure that people know the truth about you and me." Then I kissed her head, stood up, and went to her room.

I found the laptop and searched for the file. She had titled it 'Ripper Love' and dedicated it to herself and the insane half of me. The part that allows me to sit here and type the end of her story with no conscience. I thought that it wasn't true enough, the new title, **_Twisted_**.

Then I sat on her bed and began to edit the story, inserting my thoughts and feelings to make it more real and honest.

**_~Epilogue~_**

Charles Lee Ray was found later that day by the local authorities hanging by a computer cord from the lights in the hall that lead to the room the computer was found in. He had pinned a note to his chest that said he wanted the story published and the profit to go to the hospital that they were all found in.

Tiffany Relm was found with the Hans sisters. Her throat was slit as Charles has written, and the sisters had apparently committed suicide. Each had a bullet in their head and drying tears on their cheeks.

This story was published to let the world know what really happened to 'Tiffany the Ripper' and the 'split-personality' reporter whom she used.

To the families of those involved in this story, we hope that knowing what really happened will give you some piece and clarity. This was in no way meant to be an insult to anyone of the members or friends of the deceased, only shed light upon the events.

Thank you for your understanding.

Writewell Publishing.


End file.
